


The Magic Of Her Melody

by RogueLioness



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Let's see how this goes, Mild Language, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rare Pairings, Romantic Fluff, Tags May Change, non-canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-30 21:45:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10885530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: The story of how a Tevinter mercenary met and fell in love with a Ferelden minstrel.





	1. Silver Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> This originally started out as a prompt on Tumblr! This story isn't like my other stories - it's going to be a lot shorter, and will have time skips. Yes, it's non-canon; their relationship starts from Haven :)

It was her voice that hit Krem first.

Soft and sweet, it wrapped around him, easing the stress from his muscles. His shoulders relaxed, and he stepped into The Singing Maiden, his eyes scanning the room for the owner of the dulcet voice. She was standing by the fireplace, nimble fingers plucking away gently at the strings of her lute. Her rich brown hair was piled on top of her head, exposing a neck slender and elegant. Warm, brandy eyes met his, and a smile flooded across her face as she nodded at him in welcome.

That smile, he’d think to himself later, that smile had stolen his heart.

He’d come to Haven to persuade the Herald of Andraste to meet with the Chargers, and, his mission successful, he’d thought to celebrate with ale.

He certainly hadn’t expected… _her_.

He walked up to the bar counter, smiling at the barkeep. She was pretty, hair loose and flowing past her shoulders, her gown cut to expose shoulders daintily freckled. In other circumstances, Krem would have tried to charm her, but with the mysterious bard around, he wasn’t interested.

“Evening,” he said politely. “Name’s Krem. What’re you serving?”  
  
The barkeep smiled, friendly and pleasant. “Just the basics, but it’s all good stuff.”

“The ale any good?”

“Aye. It’s nice and strong, and brewed in Ferelden, if you’re the sort who care about that.”

He chuckled. “I’ll have a tankard.”

He leaned against the counter as Flissa poured the amber liquid into a large wooden mug. “Who’s the bard?” he asked casually.

“Maryden. She’s moves around, that one. Came to Haven to, as she claims, ‘spread word of the good deeds of the Herald of Andraste’ but mind you, she’s making a pretty profit too.”

“Can’t blame her,” he grinned. “Times like these, coin in your pocket’ll buy you what you need.”

“True enough,” Flissa sighed as she slid the tankard to him. “Five copper.”

Krem slapped down ten coins. “Get her a drink when she’s done, will you?” he quipped, inclining his head at Maryden. “She’ll need something to calm her throat.”

Flissa’s eyes twinkled, and a dimple peeked out from the middle of her cheek. “I’ll do that.”

He sat down at an empty table, close enough to observe her without looking like a lecher. She sang of nightingales, and he listened, downing the warm ale and grimacing at the aftertaste. Clearly the foul liquid had been bred from mabari shit, he thought dourly to himself even as he listened to the melody.

The song over, he watched out of the corner of his eye as Maryden went over to Flissa; watched the barkeep hand over a tankard of ale to the bard, and point at him. Maryden turned to face him, a puzzled frown on her forehead; he raised his glass in a silent toast, flashing her a quick smile and a cheeky wink. That served to get a laugh out of her, and he’d remember the sound - like windchimes in a soft breeze - as he drifted off to sleep that night.

He left the next morning, disappointed to find her missing from the tavern. On his way back to the Chargers, he hoped to himself - rather desperately, though he’d never admit it out loud - that the Herald would sign on the Chargers.

He wanted - needed - to see more of Maryden.

Fate was kind to him. They were signed on, albeit with strict conditions - not  that Krem could blame the Herald; given that Bull was a qunari spy, the Inquisition needed to protect itself. The way back to Haven seemed never-ending, but as they caught a glimpse of the light from the village, his heart clenched in anticipation, excitement and nervousness. What if she’d found someone?

He unpacked so quickly he surprised the rest of his team. Bull gave him a knowing grin as he walked out of his tent, trying - and failing - to appear as though he were wandering around. His feet took him straight to the loud, raucous tavern, where several of the Herald’s companions were seated around a table, a very vociferous game of Diamondback in progress.

But he heard none of their banter. His ears had zeroed in on _her_  voice.

_Once we raised_  
 _up our chalice_  
 _in victory._  
  
 _Once we sat_  
 _in the light of our dreams._  
  
He meandered over to Flissa, giving her a friendly nod. “Ale, isn’t it?” she asked as she briskly dried a plate.

“You remember?” he asked, surprised.

“Never forget what a man drinks. ‘Specially one as handsome as yourself.” she winked at him, an invitation ripe in her eyes.

“Well now, that’s one heck of a talent to have,” he smiled, keeping it polite. “I’ll pass on the ale. Got any whiskey?”

Flissa frowned as she turned away, putting the plate back in place. “Nothing fancy, mind you.”

“I’ll take whatever you got.”

She poured out a measure into a clean glass. Krem’s ears registered the lack of music, and he took a chance. “Make that two, will you?” he said, and Flissa pushed two glasses towards him. He paid quickly, and made his way over to the bard, who, to his dismay, was in conversation with an Inquisition soldier. He watched from a distance, waiting, and was rewarded when the man - looking disappointed - left. 

Krem slid into the empty space next to her. “For you,” he smiled, handing her a glass. “You look like you could use one.”

She looked over him, trying to place him, and when the corner of her lips quirked upwards he knew she’d recognized him. “Do you make it a habit to buy drinks for us poor minstrels?” she asked.

“Only when they sound like you, so no, I haven’t done this before.”

To his delight, she flushed the slightest bit. “You’ve a way with words, don’t you?”

“I’m only eloquent when I’m around extraordinarily beautiful women, I’m afraid.”

Maryden chuckled. “Laying it on pretty thick, aren’t you?”

“Is it working?” Krem winked.

She burst into a full-bodied laugh. “Might be,” she said through the laughter. “Do you have a name, stranger?”

“Cremisius Aclassi . Second in command to the Chargers. We were just signed on.”

“Maryden Halewell. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Cremisius.”

“Please, call me Krem.” 

“Well, Krem. Where are you staying here in Haven?”

His grin was blatantly flirtatious. “Why don’t I show you?”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “That’s certainly… an invite.” She looked him straight in the eyes, searching for something. She seemed to come to a decision. “Why not?” she murmured, knocking back the rest of the alcohol in her glass in a single swallow. “Lead the way.”


	2. For Her

The sound of the alarm bells drove the drunken haze from his brain.

All around him, the once-celebrating villagers ran helter-skelter, fearful cries echoing in the air.

“What’s going on?”

“What’s happening?”

“Are we at war?”

All good questions; all questions Krem had no answer to.

“Chargers, assemble!” Bull’s booming voice roused him from his reverie, and he rushed to their tents and donned his armor. Sheathing his sword as he ran towards the gates, he paused in horror at what he saw in the mountains.

A seemingly never-ending trail of torches.

In that moment, he knew for certain that Haven was the target. Just as he knew that they had little hope of defending themselves against an army of that magnitude.

But who _were_  they, and why were they here?

The Herald echoed his thoughts. “Cullen, what’s going on?”

Krem thought he’d never seen the Commander look quite so somber before. “One watchguard reporting,” Cullen sounded grim. “It’s a massive force. The bulk are over the mountains.”

“Under what banner?” Lady Josephine asked, and Krem paid close attention.

The Commander’s answer was not reassuring. “None.”

A voice was heard beyond the closed gates, and Krem watched - rather disapprovingly - as the Herald ran to open them. For a moment, he was afraid he’d been right - a massive Bruiser, bearing a wicked-looking hatchet, bore down on them.

The next moment, the man fell to the ground, dead. Behind him stood a thin, pale-looking lad with a large hat no older than twenty, twin blades dripping blood clenched in his hands.

He wasn’t able to hear the conversation the Herald and the Commander had with the lad, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. He heard the Herald ask the Commander, a hint of desperation in her voice, for a plan. “Something, _anything_ ,” she demanded frantically.

“Haven is no fortress,” the Commander replied, and Krem agreed inwardly. “If we are to withstand this monster we must control the battle. We can use the trebuchets.”

Krem watched as the Herald and her companions departed, and as Cullen issued orders to the mages. 

“We’re here to help,” he spoke to the Commander. “What can we do?”

“Evacuate the townspeople” Cullen ordered. “Get everyone to the Chantry. It’s the only place safe - for now.”

_Safe. For now._ The words looped around his head, the image of Maryden in the background.

Without a second thought, he rushed straight to the tavern. “Everybody to the Chantry, now!” he bellowed out, his eyes desperately seeking out her form. His heart sank as he noted her absence.”

“You there!” he grabbed the arm of a terrified villager. “Have you seen the bard?”

“She left as soon as the bell rang,” the villager replied. “She was headed towards the infirmary, last I saw.”

“Thank you,” Krem said, patting the man’s shoulder. “Get to the Chantry as quickly as you can. Warn the others.” He didn’t wait to hear  an acknowledgement; he sped towards the infirmary, which, to his horror, was on fire. _Maker, let her be safe,_ he prayed. 

He spotted her ushering a small group of children towards the Chantry, her face calm, though her movements were quick and jerky giving away her tension. “Maryden!” he called out, and when he turned towards her he was relieved to see that she wasn’t hurt. 

“Krem,” she replied, a look of relief on her face. “How bad is it?” she asked, _sotto voce_.

“The Herald is handling it,” he said, flashing a reassuring smile at the children. He let the children go to a waiting Chantry sister before approaching Maryden. 

“What’s happening?” she asked quietly.

“The templars march on us,” he replied in kind. “No one knows how it’ll end, but the Inquisition is giving it all it’s got.” He reached out and gripped her hand tightly. “Get to the Chantry, and stay there. Stay safe, okay?” he said urgently.

She nodded. “Be careful out there,” her voice hitched just the slightest. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You will,” he promised. “Now go!”

He met up with Stitches outside the apothecary, where he helped to carry crates of potions to the Chantry. They were returning for more when the unthinkable happened - a _dragon_  flew over their heads, roaring in fury.

“Fuck!” Stitches hissed. “Did you see that?”

“Yeah,” he replied grimly.

“We don’t stand a chance against that thing!”

“The Herald and the Commander will have a plan,” he said, more to reassure himself than the healer next to him. 

Stitches eyes’ widened. “Look out!” he yelled, and pushed Krem out of the way just seconds before an arrow lodged itself into the spot where he’d been standing.

“Thanks,” Krem replied shakily, and drew his sword. “Guess we have company.”

“You think?” Stitches sounded snarky, but he couldn’t blame the man. “Maker, _what_  are those creatures?”

Krem wondered, too. Though they wore templar armor, their eyes and skins glowed red. And he was pretty sure he’d spotted some absolutely _monstrous_ looking beings in the distance.

“I don’t know,” he answered, rushing forward to intercept the templars that were headed towards the Chantry. “But we can’t let them into the Chantry! Come on!” He heard Stitches complaining but paid him no heed. Letting out a yell, he ran his sword through the first templar, pulling the blade out in a smooth motion before spinning around towards the rest. A thin, slender dagger flew by his side, pinning down his enemy.

“You boys okay?” Skinner asked, stepping out of stealth to yank the dagger from the dead man.

“We’re having a fuckin’ party,” Stitches muttered.

“Get to the Chantry! Everybody get to the Chantry!” Krem turned around and spotted several villagers running towards them. He recognized Flissa and Adan immediately. 

“The Herald” - pant - “said” - pant - “everyone needs to get” - pant - “inside the Chantry,” Flissa managed to speak as she caught her breath.

“More incoming,” Skinner remarked grimly.

“Get inside,” Krem ordered. “We’ll be right behind you.”

Flissa shot him an uncertain look, but Adan caught her arm and pulled her inside the large stone building.”

“Let’s take those bastards down,” Skinner wiped her blades off on her pants, the metal glinting in the flames that the dragon’s breath had created.

They fought, the clang of metal on metal, the scent of blood and _evil_  in the air, till their breaths came out raspy and hoarse in the cold evening. None of them spoke a word as they battled the tainted templars, but Krem knew that they were thinking exactly what he was - that there was no hope, that soon they would be outnumbered.

The arrival of the Herald and her companions - including Bull - bought them enough time to slip into the Chantry. Bull dragged the massive iron bar into place, sealing the doors and keeping out the templars outside. Krem slumped against a column, placing a hand over his shoulder to staunch the wound he’d received from a templar knight.

“Krem!” her voice had never been more welcome, nor had it sounded sweeter. All he could think of as she rushed to his side was _thank the Maker, she’s safe_ even as another, despairing voice remarked _but for how long?_

“You’re hurt,” Maryden was dismayed.

“It’s just a scratch,” he tried to smile, but he didn’t fool her. Silently, she walked away from him and returned moments later with supplies. With a nod of her head, she bade him to lie down, which he did.

“This will hurt… I’m sorry,” she whispered, then poured the alcohol into the wound. 

The yelped curse slipped from his lips before he could bite it back.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, sympathy in her eyes. She carefully, cautiously bandaged up his wound, taking care not to hurt him any more than he was, and he couldn’t help but stare at her nimble fingers as they worked, marvelling at the calloused fingertips as they brushed against him for he knew they were a testament to her talent.

_I think I love you._

The revelation had him shying away from her in shock. _It’s not possible._  And yet, even as he gazed into those warm brown eyes filled with such concern and care, he knew his heart spoke the truth.

“Did I hurt you?” she asked.

“No, you just… caught me by surprise.”

She tucked the end of the bandage and pinned it neatly. “There,” she said, smiling and patting his cheek, “all done.” She handed over a flask of health potion. “You definitely need this.”

“Thanks,” he replied, his tone gruff. “For… everything.”

Her smile grew wider. “Of course.”

They fell silent, both staring at the wooden doors that kept the enemy away. From beyond it, they could hear the rampage of the templars as they destroyed what remained of Haven.

“Krem,” Maryden asked hesitantly, as though she were afraid of the answer he’d give her, “what happens now?”

He gazed past her to where the Herald and the Commander were in quiet, heated discussion. His gaze moved to where Bull stood, his good eye narrowed in grim contemplation, and he feared he knew the answer.

_This is the end_ , he thought.

“I don’t know,” he replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts/comments/suggestions always appreciated! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts/comments/suggestions always welcome! :)


End file.
